


sparkling soda pop

by lathakalain



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- Doukyuusei, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Teacher-Student Relationships, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Winwin as Sajou Rihito, Yuta as Kusakabe Hikaru, but it's only brief, idk how to tag, implied and past winil, inspired by Doukyuusei, tsundere!winwin, winwin is a nerd, yuta is in a band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lathakalain/pseuds/lathakalain
Summary: Yuta does not think much about what happens after high school until he finds himself teaching a slightly tone-deaf Sicheng to sing for their performance at the school festival.Or: the yuwin doukyuusei au no one asked for
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. summer day summer night // sandeul

**Author's Note:**

> some things to keep in mind:  
> \- the 95 and 97 liners + Doyoung are in the same year  
> \- Kun, Ten, and Taeil are teachers and in their late 20s-early 30s  
> \- other members will be mentioned in passing  
> \- this is inspired by the manga and movie Doukyuusei ("Classmates") but i will do my best to put my own spin on things and for the whole thing to make sense :)))))))
> 
> special thanks to D for agreeing to beta-read this! i tweaked some stuff but you're the best!

_"A boy met a boy. They were in flush of youth. They were in love that felt like a dream, sizzling like sparkling soda pop."_

_\- summary of Doukyuusei by Nakamura Asumiko_

“This is stupid.”

“Fuckin’ ditto.”

“Do people still care about this?”

“We’re all guys, though. Who will sing the high parts?”

Yuta does his best not to get distracted as the music room fills with the noise of rowdy seventeen-year-olds. He sees their music teacher, Moon Taeil, stick two full sheets of manila paper to the blackboard, clapping his hands to get the class’s attention. “Listen up, brats!” he says rather cheerfully. “Remember your assigned parts and stick to it while we practice. We have a few weeks left until the school festival. Until then, I want you knuckleheads to sing like angels for me!”

“All worked up, are we, Taeil-hyung?” Johnny says with a snicker.

“No, I just want you boys to finally put your backs into something worthwhile, ‘is all,” Taeil replies, ignoring Johnny’s improper use of honorifics. They are all used to it, anyway, the banter between teacher and students almost like that of old friends as a handful of Yuta’s classmates tease the man with bets on who will cry first after the performance. That’s Taeil-hyung for you, and Yuta is not bothered, not one bit.

Taeil requests that every boy in the music room stand and pay attention to the score he had posted on the blackboard before taking a seat in front of a worn but still functional piano. “Sing on my cue!” he says over the music he plays, and the class begins to sing. They are not bad, Yuta thinks, but they are no heavenly choir, that’s for sure. He could make out a few of his friends in the cacophony of it all: Taeyong and his steady tenor, Jaehyun and his sweet baritone, Johnny and his imposing bass. Other than that, it’s all awkward humming and noises from strained throats.

_Oh,_ Yuta thinks when he notices something is off.

His eyes flicker briefly to the boy next to him, standing taller than him with a neat mop of dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. His eyes are hooded, plump lips barely parting while everyone else sings to the best of their capabilities. Dong Sicheng, Yuta remembers off-handedly as they continue to practice the song. _That’s a pretty odd name, probably a foreigner. He’s really smart, I heard; what’s he doing in a place like this? Probably thinks this singing thing is lame._

The bell rings and Taeil reminds them to study their parts and practice on their own if they can. Yuta gets his things and meets up with his friends outside the music room, discussing songs and guitar pedals on the way to their next class. That is the last he sees of Dong Sicheng.

Or so he thinks.

*

“Hey, we got the studio to ourselves today,” Taeyong says to Yuta as he takes out a few books out of his locker. School is over and Yuta barely hears him over the chatter from the other boys. “I was thinking we should go through some of the lyrics Doyoung wrote.”

“Did Jaehyun get his snare fixed?” he asks as he opens his own locker, filled to the brim with rock and roll paraphernalia and a few of his books.

“Yeah, he taped it up the other day and he’s good to go.”

Yuta hums his interest before hissing a curse at the sight of his backpack. “Shit. Forgot something in the classroom, I’ll be right back!”

“Okay! We’ll go ahead, then!” Taeyong shouts as Yuta disappears into the crowd and back to the school building. He waves to a few guys who greet him at the halls and he hums a childish tune under his breath, about mold growing in his lunchbox if he leaves it at school. Just before he sets foot into the classroom, he hears a faint voice singing familiar lyrics, and his curiosity gets the better of him.

It's Sicheng, and he is alone in the room, sitting on one of the desks and holding a copy of the score sheet in front of him. His voice halts over the notes and trips over the words, and Yuta feels embarrassment blooming in his gut when some passerby bumps into him and pushes him into the threshold. Sicheng’s eyes shoot up and Yuta is reminded of a deer—no, more like a doe—in the headlights. He clears his throat and brushes it off with a laugh.

“I- uh, I forgot my stuff here,” he says, carding a hand through his hair. “Do you mind?”

Sicheng simply shakes his head, murmuring a “Not at all,” before going back to his practice.

_Self-study, huh_ , Yuta muses silently as he pushes through the crumpled wads of paper that fall from his desk and takes out the lunchbox he was looking for. “Sicheng, that’s not how the song goes, by the way,” he says as he keeps it inside his backpack.

“H-huh?” Sicheng stammers.

“The way you sang. It was wrong.” Yuta calmly walks over to him and points to the staff of notes on the score sheet. “There’s a rest here,” he states, “so you have to pause.” He sings Sicheng’s version and the correct version to demonstrate, and Sicheng only nods. Yuta sings a few more lines, trying to ignore the wide-eyed stare the other boy is giving him, and stops. “Wait, Taeil-hyung didn’t teach us that part yet.”

There is a dusting of red across Sicheng’s cheeks that Yuta catches a glimpse of before he turns around to check his belongings in his backpack. “Thank you,” he hears Sicheng mutter. “For teaching me all this.”

“No problem,” Yuta replies nonchalantly.

“It’s because you’re in a band, right?”

Yuta did not really expect this. It is no secret in their mediocre all-male high school that he, Taeyong, Jaehyun, and their outside friend Doyoung were part of a band, one that Johnny had foolishly named Heartbreaker because he didn’t want to be left out. But Dong Sicheng—and Yuta hopes he won’t take offence from this—is probably the last person Yuta would think even listens to the kind of music their band plays. “Um, yeah, but that has nothing to do with it. It’s pretty easy, really. What’s giving you a hard time?”

“My glasses,” and as if on cue, Sicheng has them in his hand, wiping the lenses gently with a cloth. “The power doesn’t match my eyes. I couldn’t see the board very well.”

“Why don’t you ask Taeil-hyung to move you closer to the front then?”

Sicheng’s shoulders tense and his breath hitches at the mention of Taeil’s name, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. Besides, there’s no need to bother him with something that… small.”

Silence. Yuta watches Sicheng replace his glasses on his face before throwing him a shrug. He continues to watch the way the other boy fits his copy of the score sheets inside his bag before gathering enough courage to speak.

“I-“

“Hm?”

Yuta fliches away when Sicheng’s eyes fall on him, expectant. He clears his throat, gathers the courage and finds his words. “I could teach you. The song.”

“Oh?”

“Every day, whenever you’re free. Until we perform for the festival. Is that okay with you?”

Sicheng only hums in deep thought, and Yuta makes a mental note to sew his mouth shut by the time he gets home.

“Okay,” Sicheng answers slowly. “I would like that.”

*

That is how Yuta finds himself with Sicheng every day during lunch and after school, practicing for at least half an hour each time before Yuta goes to band practice and Sicheng goes to his cram school. Yuta thinks this is a good idea at first, until he realizes that his friends-slash-bandmates are nothing but greedy sons of bitches who burn holes into his wallet because his punishment for being late (which is to pay for after-practice snacks) are occurring more frequently than ever. They meet wherever was available, but their usual haunt is a storage area at the school grounds that’s barely occupied. The acoustics are good and no one is around to bother them, so it’s a win-win situation in the end.

“No, that’s not it.” Yuta hovers over Sicheng’s shoulder as if he did not have his own copy of the song in his hands. “That’s a _mi_.”

“No it’s not,” Sicheng protests, but it comes out almost like a whine. Yuta decides to be firm and not melt into a puddle like last time.

“Yes, it is,” Yuta says. “There’s a natural here, so the tone goes back to normal.” He hums it for good measure. When Sicheng continues to stare blankly at the sheet music, Yuta holds back a sigh. “That’s because it’s the treble clef, Sicheng. It’s sung differently.”

“That can’t be right,” the other boy murmurs and begins counting the notes on the staff.

“Y’know, I’m starting to wonder if the real reason you’re having a hard time with this is because you can’t read notes.” Yuta says teasingly as he wiggles his eyebrows at Sicheng.

The flustered boy only furrows his brow and concentrates on the score, his cheeks and ears pink. “Shut up,” he says, and when Yuta teases him for singing through do re mi like a child, Sicheng throws him a chilly pout.

That’s the cutest shit Yuta has ever seen.

“You know what,” he announces, leaning close enough to push Sicheng’s hand away and set the papers aside, “let’s forget about the score. Sing after me.”

And Sicheng does.

(“Ha-ha!” Jaehyun cries triumphantly, twirling a drumstick between his fingers as soon as Yuta enters the makeshift studio that is his garage. “It’s Bic Mac time!”

“I’m fine with just ramyeon,” Doyoung adds before taking a swig from his thermos of ginger and lemon tea (vocalists are weird).

“Sweet potato chips from that place I like,” Taeyong says as he tunes his bass.

“And tteokbokki for me!” Johnny pipes in, looking up from his phone.

Yuta barely has time to catch his breath. “Fuck you all,” is all he says before opening the case for his guitar.)

*

Yuta and Sicheng meet up at the fountain in a nearby park for their last and final practice together. Back at school, Taeil had showered them with much praise, saying he almost shed a tear. Taeyong had patted himself on the back, thanking supernatural forces that they had not crashed and burned with their last practice. While Johnny and Jaehyun take turns in verbally tormenting Taeil for almost crying, Yuta had glanced at Sicheng. The boy had always been aloof, but today, he had gazed at Taeil so fondly, and Yuta had wondered what that gaze meant, what Taeil had done to garner such a look from Sicheng. It’s like a solar eclipse or a hazy daydream or a secret Yuta will have to keep to the grave.

“Perfect,” he says after Sicheng draws out the last note and the sun finally sets over the horizon, painting everything in an amber hue. They stay well past dark, and Yuta finds Sicheng handing him a bottle of soda he had bought at the vending machine.

“What’s this?” he has the nerve to ask.

“It’s a gift,” Sicheng answers. “Thank you for helping me. You didn’t have to do all this.”

It takes a beat for Yuta to take the soda from Sicheng’s cold hands and to his lips. Doyoung is probably going to give him a lecture complete with a thirty-slide PowerPoint presentation on throat care for singers and the dangers of drinking cold, sweet beverages before a performance if he sees him downing icy liquid sugar, but it’s not like they are putting up some big show. It’s just him, Sicheng, his friends, and the rest of his class singing in front of the school.

“I had the impression you were going to reject my offer,” Yuta says in between sips. “I didn’t think you’d be the type of person to care about… all this.” He emphasizes the last words by waving his free hand nonsensically in the air.

“But I do care,” Sicheng replies, and he almost sounds like a child. “I don’t want to look like a fool.”

Yuta holds back a chuckle. “Or maybe you just want to do your best for Taeil-hyung or-?”

He did not finish his sentence when Sicheng drops his bottle onto the cemented ground, spilling soda everywhere. Yuta says, “Oh, I’ll get that,” and as he and Sicheng crouch down at the same time and their fingers touch, he takes his chance. Loops his other hand behind Sicheng’s nape and pulls him in.

Their lips meet, and they kiss with their eyes wide open. Yuta sees stars dance before him, Sicheng’s hand meeting his when they had reach for the bottle at the same time. He wrenches himself away, his heart hammering against his chest. “I-“ He can’t find his voice. Sicheng continues to stare at him, his mouth agape and his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. “I-I have to go!”

Yuta picks up his backpack and makes a run for it, ignoring Sicheng calling out his name and the carbonated saccharine smeared on his mouth. When he is out of earshot, he lets loose a string of curses and yells his craving for the sweet release of death at the top of his lungs. That is just the dumbest thing he has ever done, and Nakamoto Yuta has done enough dumb things to last him a lifetime.

Growing out his hair and bleaching it? Cool.

Agreeing to practice a song with his classmate everyday after school knowing his friends are cutthroat assholes who take advantage of his very real flaw of tardiness? Sure.

Falling for said classmate who is probably in love with their goofy music teacher? Grade-A stupid, is what he thinks.

Yuta runs all the way home that night and tries to scrub the taste of soda away from his mouth. He instantly regrets this as he throws himself into bed, knowing that 1) he essentially tried to erase Sicheng’s kiss from his lips; and 2) he remembers that soda uses saccharides, a type of sweetener that sticks to every nook and cranny in his mouth, and he can still fucking taste it.

*

On the day of the performance, Yuta and Sicheng act as if nothing had happened between them. The program begins with much pomp and circumstance, but all that is for naught when everyone loses their attention thirty minutes in. Yuta takes all the chances he could to yawn until it is their turn to take the stage. Thankfully, Sicheng is assigned to stand a few rows below him, while Yuta stands somewhere at the top. Man, would it be awkward as hell if Taeil had made them stand next to each other. His knees are shaking at the thought.

“Now, let us all give a hand for class 3-A, with their rendition of the song, _Budding Leaves_ ,” an elderly teacher at the podium says into the microphone. Taeil does not flinch at the half-hearted applause, and beams at the boys from below with a conductor’s baton in hand. He swings it in the air as the piano begins to play, and Yuta takes a deep breath and sings.

It is not so bad, he thinks. Everything is fine. Taeyong and Johnny don’t trip over their parts, and Jaehyun does his best not to overshadow everyone else and hoard the spotlight. Everything is fine, until his eyes fall on Sicheng. He is opening his mouth wider now, doing away with the uncertainty he had all those weeks ago and his _voice_. Yuta just knows his heart is beating too loudly in his ears because Sicheng’s voice is just surreal, lovely and deep and impossibly soft. _That was good, right?_ he thinks to himself. Sicheng is singing, thanks to him. Yuta claspses his hands behind his back, and it takes a few moments for the music to stop and a fleeting thought of him needing Sicheng for him to realize that all eyes are on _him_. Because he is fucking crying. Yuta gapes at nothing and everything at the same time, and books it off the stage so no one else will see his tears. Yuta hears Taeil call out his name, but Sicheng says it louder as he chases after him, inciting a bigger reaction from the crowd.

“What the hell?”

“The fuck runs off in the middle of the performance like that?”

“Yo, is this a school or a set for a TV drama?”

_This isn’t a TV drama_ , Yuta thinks as he runs to nowhere in particular. _This is a fucking nightmare and it’s called my life._

“Yuta!” Sicheng is right behind him, but the gap does not close. Yuta keeps on running, fighting his legs that want to collapse from underneath him. “Yuta! Wait!”

“Go back!” Yuta shouts back. “Taeil-hyung will be worried!”

They both stop in the middle of a path, panting like dogs. Yuta knows his eyes are dry, and the tears just keep coming. He avoids looking at Sicheng so he won’t see his flushed face or hear him breathe as if his lungs are about to give out, and for that, Yuta wants to kick himself.

“What does this have to do with Taeil-hyung?” Sicheng asks between labored breaths.

“I think I’m in love with you!” Yuta yells, and he does not even have the strength to look at Sicheng in the eye as he says it. How can he, when he could not stop crying? “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You sang that song for Taeil-hyung! Because you were doing your best for him! And I’m totally helping the enemy here and I don’t know if I can still live with myself because I love you but you love someone else and… and…“

Yuta lets loose another scream and crouches to the ground, his tears mixing with the dirt and muddying his shoes. He feels like a fucking idiot, an idiot in love, and that is the worst kind of idiot.

“Yuta.” Sicheng puts a hand on the other boy’s shoulder, his touch gentle. He has the fucking nerve to be calm, and Yuta wants to push him away so he could mope in peace but he could never because it’s _Sicheng_. “I never said I did my best for Taeil-hyung.” 

“Huh?” Yuta replies dumbly in between sniffles.

Sicheng heaves a patient sigh. “I said, I never said I was doing my best for Taeil-hyung. And besides, singing with you was… was...”

Yuta abruptly twists his torso to face Sicheng, whose cheeks are slowly turning light pink. “What?” he asks, leaning even closer with curiosity. “Singing with me was what?”

“N-nevermind,” Sicheng stutters as he looks away. All the blood in him has rushed to his face and Yuta has never seen anyone look so red. “It’s nothing.”

“Huh? Could you finish that last part? Ya! isn’t that what's most important?!”

“Not that important,” Sicheng manages.

Yuta wants to protest even more when he hears two voices shouting for their names in the distance.

_Shit, we have to hide._ “Quick, quick, quick, come with me,” Yuta says to Sicheng as he grabs his hand and run off again.

“Mr. Nakamoto! Mr. Dong!” Mr. Lee shouts fruitlessly into the air. “Please return to the auditorium with us!”

“Geez, where are those kids?” Mr. Qian mutters wearily.

“Say, Sicheng?”

Yuta and Sicheng are hiding in another storage area, much smaller than the one they used to meet up for choir practice. Sicheng’s gaze darts to Yuta at the sound of his name, back pressed against the wall.

“Could you finish that last part?”

Sicheng gives him that pout again. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Do your glasses get in the way? When we kiss?” Yuta asks sincerely as he leans dangerously close.

Sicheng could only manage an “Eh?”, about to shove Yuta away before Yuta closes the distance between them, tilting his face so their lips would meet just fine. He shuts his eyes tight, afraid to wake up from his dream and face reality.

“I had expected this from Nakamoto to get up and run like that,” he hears Mr. Qian say, his voice faint, “but for Dong to go after him?”

“They are an odd pair, to say the least,” Mr. Lee agrees. “Are you sure we have checked everywhere?”

“Quick, they might be in that spot near the field!”

_Huh,_ Yuta says to himself when he hears fading footsteps and Sicheng’s hand on his shoulder slackens. _I guess they don’t really get in the way after all._

_As we walk step by step_

_The bright moon hides behind the clouds_

_As we walk step by step,_

_Suddenly we have stopped._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [20201227]  
> how about that yuwin crumb that we got from the "can't live without you" mv amirite??? this will be a chaptered fic and idk how consistent my updates will be and by then you might have already read the manga/seen the movie that you'll know how this story will go :'))))))) again, thank you so much for my friend D who agreed to be sucked in with the bullshit i do i can't thank him enough!
> 
> also, it's the beyond live today! i'm awfully jealous because i already bought the albums and was completely caught off-guard that they were doing a virtual concert ;-; i hope jisung is well enough to do his best onstage today and taeyong gets all the rest he deserves.
> 
> ps: i think winwin and yuta have seriously underrated vocals breathe if you agree


	2. you make loving fun // fleetwood mac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: there will be a depiction of intimacy between two characters who have an age gap in this chapter. it's a pretty crucial part of the story but if you're uncomfortable with that, it starts at sicheng's pov and ends at "taking Sicheng's hand and making a run for it." :))))))

_“There is someone that I like._

_Same uniform._

_Same shoes._

_Same class._

_Same age.”_

_-Kusakabe Hikaru, Doukyuusei_

“So… you and Sicheng, huh?”

Yuta stops with his chest exposed to give Taeyong a strange look. He is not bothered that he is half-naked in front of his friend as they change in their classroom for gym, but for some reason, he feels exposed. He notices the edge to Taeyong’s voice, as if he is treading cautiously around a land mine.

“Yeah,” Yuta answers as he slips a white cotton shirt over his head. “What about it?”

“Just nothing,” Taeyong replies, kicking his feet in the air as he waits for Yuta to finish changing. “I noticed you kinda staring at each other during World Lit and uh… you’ve been going home with him lately, but not like there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just that Sicheng’s…”

Yuta raises an eyebrow at Taeyong as he hikes up the waistband of his sweatpants. “He’s what, Yong?”

“Sicheng’s a different....” Taeyong taps his chin and looks at the tiles, racking his mind for the right word, “genre, y’know?”

“Different genre, you say?” Yuta zips up the red and white windbreaker and begins folding his school uniform neatly on a spare desk.

“Yeah. It’s weird, seeing you two together.”

“Weird?” This has Yuta chuckling, garnering a furrowed brow from Taeyong.

“Hey, I’m serious. You can’t be laughing like that when there are rumors going on about the school.”

“What sort of rumors?”

Taeyong looks at him like he’s tired of Yuta playing dumb. Yuta sends a telepathic _What?_ as he stuffs his clothes into his bag. “You know what kind.”

“Enlighten me, because I don’t know.”

“Y’know.” Taeyong kicks himself off the desk and onto the floor, smoothing his front with his hands. _“The kind that circulate in all-boys schools.”_

Yuta ponders over this conversation as he walks home with Sicheng that drizzling afternoon. He sneaks a secretive glance at Sicheng who had taken up most of the umbrella. _Was this weird?_ he thinks to himself. Sure, he and Sicheng practically screamed polar opposites: short dark hair to his bleached blond mullet, straightlaced to his “don’t know, don’t care”, studious and diligent to his lazy and complacent academics.

Yeah, they’re different genres, Yuta muses silently, but that doesn’t mean they’re not allowed to get along.

“You can drop me off here,” Sicheng says, stopping.

“Okay,” Yuta replies without slowing his pace.

“Yuta, it’s just around the corner.”

“Then I’ll drop you off there, then.”

Sicheng groans at Yuta’s stubbornness, but he keeps walking anyway. He gives him a once-over as they continue their leisurely stroll. “Your sleeve.”

Yuta hums and looks to his shoulder that had been peeking out from the umbrella. Sure enough, the fabric is soaked through, rainwater cool and sticking to his skin.

“I should move over,” Sicheng says, voice laced with concern. “Aren’t you worried that you’re getting wet?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Yuta replies nonchalantly. “I never use the umbrella when I’m on my own, anyway.”

Sicheng presses his lips into a thin line and looks back at the street ahead. “That reminds me,” Yuta continues, placing his hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep them warm, “when I was in elementary, they told us acid rain would make you bald or something.” His words make the other boy’s eyes widen. “Well, they don’t seem to mention it much these days, what with the rain and all.”

Yuta doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but it makes Sicheng chuckle as he wipes his glasses of the raindrops that had streaked them. “I suppose so,” he says softly.

Maybe this lazy attempt in making conversation is paying off for Yuta after all.

He stares as Sicheng places his glasses back on his face, twists his body to face him and to lean closer. Sicheng looks up when Yuta is close enough to breathe on his neck, and soon, they engage in an awkward dance in the rain, Sicheng dodging Yuta’s every attempt to get close.

“Can I kiss you?” Yuta has Sicheng backed up against a wire fence as he asks this. Sicheng tries to wrench himself away, but Yuta has a hand around his wrist and another on his chin.

“No,” Sicheng says firmly. But Yuta does it anyway, and Sicheng’s body melts like it always does when they kiss. He can hear the faint clinking of steel when Sicheng clenches his fingers around the fence as Yuta savors the warmth, cold hands cupping Sicheng’s heated cheeks. “I said, no!” he repeats, this time shoving Yuta away as hard as he could.

“Eeeeh, why?” Yuta replies in disbelief. The umbrella flies over their heads and skitters to the sidewalk. He makes an effort to pick it up and chase after a furiously-blushing Sicheng. “We’re going out, aren’t we?”

“We are not going out,” Sicheng says, picking up his pace to a brisk-walk.

Yuta sighs, leaps over and throws himself on Sicheng’s back. The moment they still themselves is tense and quiet, save for the rain and Yuta’s heartbeat. “But we kiss, don’t we?”

Sicheng does not say anything, but Yuta can see his fairy ear getting redder by the second and resists the urge to breathe on it just to it change color. “Do you kiss people you don’t date, Sicheng?”

That is probably the last straw, because Sicheng suddenly breaks away from Yuta’s embrace, almost causing the latter to fall face-first into the wet concrete. “So let’s not, then!” His voice almost breaks when the last syllables leave his lips.

“Huh?” is all Yuta could say.

Sicheng stops a few steps away from where Yuta is standing, a grimace on his somber features. “Let’s not do it.”

With that, Sicheng runs all the way to his destination, leaving Yuta all alone in the middle of the street. _Ah_ , Yuta thinks as the rain falls harder on him. _I’ve really done it this time._

*

“Maaaaan!” Yuta whines into his sleeve as he sinks down the chair.

“’Maaaaan’ all you want, kid, it’s not gonna help,” Taeil says from his side of the desk. As a junior, Yuta has to attend the oh-so crucial counseling sessions that will soon set his post-high school life in stone. And it’s just his luck that he has Taeil assigned to be his advisor, before _lunch_ of all times. “Let’s get this over with and just write three schools and three courses you want to take, you don’t even have to think.”

Yuta glances at the older man, who is shamelessly looking at a racy magazine, and lets loose a loud groan. “Who resigned and made you teacher? You’re so irresponsible, hyung.”

Taeil snickers as he flips to the next page. “You sure you’re using that word right, Yuta?” He mutters an off-hand comment about a model’s latest surgery before redirecting his attention to Yuta. “If anyone’s irresponsible, it’s you kids, all worked up about love, sex, and rock and roll. You’re two decades too early for that crap. Think about that when you already have your future sorted out.”

While Taeil continues to read, Yuta stares out the window, a hand resting on his chin. His ears are tired of this speech and honestly? He thinks they need a new script, maybe add a few embellishments to make it appealing for his short attention span.

“ _’Coarse’_ …”

Taeil swings his head to Yuta when the boy finally utters a word. Yuta’s gaze is still transfixed past the four walls of the classroom. “Huh?”

“ _’Coarse… the rush-mat… roof’_?” Yuta continues to mumble what is hopefully a coherent sentence. He looks at Taeil with the sincerity of a child determined to press an adult for answers. “What’s next?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Taeil replies, confused.

“It’s something from World Lit, I think,” Yuta answers. He echoes the words to himself, as if repeating them would stir his memory and he will finally have the answer he seeks.

“You and Sicheng,” Taeil says, breaking the silence, “have been getting along quite well lately.”

The mention of Sicheng’s name has Yuta’s eyes fixed on his teacher. The look Taeil has on his face is curious, but not willing to prod. Yuta tries not to glare at him.

“Or should I say, you used to get along,” Taeil continues as he thumbs a dog-eared page of his magazine. “I haven’t seen you two-“

“Really? You think that’s any of your business?” Yuta snaps, and Taeil flinches, rightfully so. It has been a few weeks since their little fight(?) in the rain, and Yuta is still a little sore. He had asked Sicheng a valid question (or was it?) and Sicheng had reacted poorly. It didn’t help that they are in the same class, and it certainly didn’t help that Sicheng has refused to talk to him since then.

Taeil only flashes a small smile. “It’s not,” he says. “But I have known him since first year. He is pretty popular among the teachers, so maybe it’s just that.”

_I have known him since first year._ Yuta gives his teacher a fish-eyed stare when the bell rings and Taeil tucks his magazine under his arm. “Well, it’s time for lunch,” he says with a heavy sigh. “When you get to the classroom, Yuta, tell Sicheng to meet me here after school.”

He leaves, and Yuta still stares even after Taeil’s back disappears from view. His words still ring in his ears, refusing to leave his mind. _I have known him since first year. First year… first year…_

“Coarse, the rush-mat roof.” Yuta climbs the staircase, rounds the corner, keeps on walking.

“Sheltering…” He passes by Mr. Li, who scolds him for bumping into him rather hard. Yuta only manages to mumble a half-hearted sorry and before he knows it, he almost bumps into Sicheng at their classroom door. Their eyes meet for a moment.

“Si-“

Sicheng pushes past him as if he is nothing more than air, a ghost he pretends not to see. Yuta digs his nails into his palms.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, “stop _ignoring me_.”

When Sicheng refuses to acknowledge him, Yuta raises his voice as he says, “For a guy who has everything, you can be damn self-conscious!”

The whole world falls silent and Yuta forgets that he is still in school. He remembers the embarrassment that festered in him all those months ago, to have all eyes on him and his vulnerability. Sicheng’s, especially, are comically round, so Yuta quickly clears his throat before it gets any worse.

“Um, Taeil-hyung said to meet him at the guidance office after school,” he says loud enough for everybody to hear and to ensure them that nothing was wrong.

“Oh.” The tension from Sicheng’s body almost disappears, but there is a sheen to his dark eyes and an expression on his face that Yuta could not decipher. “Okay. I got it.”

“Yuta!” Johnny shouts from the other end of the room. Behind him are Taeyong and Jaehyun, lunchboxes or pocket money in hand. “Ready for lunch?”

Yuta looks at Sicheng one last time before joining his friends outside his classroom, shoving his hands in his pockets. He tunes out the conversation the guys are having about reruns of some old-timey cartoon. He thinks about everything and nothing. Isn’t this Sicheng’s fault, for ignoring him in the first place? Then he retracts the thought with the probability of Sicheng being pissed at him.

_Actually,_ Yuta says to himself when Jaehyun and Johnny go into a detailed complaint about a flaw from last night’s rerun, _it’s almost like he wanted to cry._

*

“ _’Coarse, the rush-mat roof’_.”

Taeil leans over the window sill near the desk he and Sicheng share. “’ _Sheltering the harvest-hut of the autumn rice-field’_ … did it go that way?”

The boy looks up in confusion. “Pardon, sir?”

Taeil shakes his head with a light-hearted chuckle. “Oh, it was something Yuta said to me a few hours ago.” He takes his seat and shuffles the papers on the desk into a neat stack. “Well, not much to worry about. As long as you keep your grades up, you can get in whatever university you choose. I don’t even see the point of still seeing you today.”

Sicheng manages to shoot a wan smile at his teacher’s joke. Taeil returns it with a grin of his own. “There is still the issue about your health and…” and he falls silent and frowns at Sicheng. “Did someone break up with you?”

“Excuse me?” Sicheng says, blinking.

“You look down, like, really down.” Taeil gets up out of his seat and paces the room. In a smooth motion, he pulls out a cigarette and tucks the box back into his coat pocket. “You and Yuta were going out, right?”

Sicheng bristles at the claim. “We’re both guys."

“Or should I use the present tense and say you guys are still going out?”

When Taeil places a hand on his shoulder and asks for a lighter, Sicheng does not flinch. He shakes his head and says no. When Taeil slowly lifts his chin, Sicheng can only look at him in the eye.

“Do you know what it means, Sicheng? When two guys are _together_?” Taeil asks, and when Sicheng does not speak, he pushes Sicheng’s bottom lip down with his thumb and teases him with the cigarette. “After you graduate from this school, you’ll be free, and you get to see girls again. Boys who don’t think that way will chase skirts as soon as they can.”

Sicheng notices the way Taeil’s gaze lingers on his mouth, tastes the barest hint of tobacco on his tongue, and he tries not to let his shock get the best of him when Taeil says, “ _Yuta is exactly like that._ ”

“I see,” Sicheng manages to say as he drops his eyes to the floor. _Sicheng is a different genre, y’know?_ he had overheard Taeyong say weeks ago as Yuta changes from school uniform to gym clothes.

 _The kind of rumors that circulate in an all-boys school._ Taeil carefully slips his glasses off his face and puts them aside on the desk. The softness of his face intensifies as Sicheng’s vision goes blurry.

_So it’s not going to be what I had hoped for, after all._

Taeil’s face is only a hairsbreadth from his own when someone bursts into the guidance office. Sicheng is taken aback at the sight of Yuta standing at the doorway, out of breath and blond hair sticking in all directions. His face is ruddy but blank, as if trying to process the scene that is about to unfold before him. He takes a few big strides and hits Taeil square on the head with his fist. Sicheng takes his glasses from the desk just as Yuta grabs his hand and makes a run for it outside.

No amount of Sicheng yelling Yuta’s name or to slow down is relenting the other boy to stop until they reach an empty road with trees and a view overlooking the rest of town. Yuta has his back turned to Sicheng when he finally let go, the wind ruffling his hair as he says, “Sorry.”

Sicheng could only stare. He wants to reach out for Yuta but how could he? How could he chase after someone who he pushes away constantly, who will never be his? He pulls back his hand and puts his glasses back on instead.

“ _’Coarse the rush-mat roof,’_ ” Yuta suddenly speaks, his voice loud and clear like an old scholar. “ _’Sheltering the harvest-hut of the autumn rice-field, and my sleeves-‘_ ”

“ _’And my sleeves are growing wet, with the moisture dripping through_ ,’” Sicheng finishes for him.

Yuta looks at Sicheng from the corner of his eye before turning around, his face lit with realization and relief. “Oh! So that’s how the rest of it goes! Man, I thought it was gonna bug me forever.”

“That part of the poem’s actually more well-known,” Sicheng replies, but he could not help but break into a small smile at the notion of Yuta letting a Tenchi Tenno poem occupy his mind for more than the average adolescent’s. “You are strange, Yuta.”

The enthusiasm from Yuta fades, replaced by a soft look of yearning. “Hey, Sicheng.”

“Yes?”

Yuta’s cheeks are ruddy as he plays with the hem of his uniform. “This is kinda serious so I need a serious answer, okay?”

Sicheng knows what he’s going to ask, the exact words if he thinks hard enough, but he nods.

“Would you please go out with me, Dong Sicheng?” Yuta says. His face is determined, flushed and moist with perspiration.

_Do you know what it means, Sicheng? When two guys are together?_ He remembers Taeil’s words as Yuta leans closer. “What, is it… am I… no good?” Yuta asks when he is met with silence.

“N-no,” Sicheng stutters, but it’s not because he is nervous. In fact, he’s never been surer than anything in his life. _My, he’s working up a sweat_ , he thinks as he wipes Yuta’s temples dry with his handkerchief. Along the way, he gives him his answer, and it makes Sicheng’s heart soar when Yuta buries his face into his shoulder and pulls him in a tight embrace from behind, the wind urging them to stay that way.

Forever.

(Taeil blinks until he is sure his vision is clear. He does not remember much, except for a certain punk with a blond mullet hitting him in the cranium and running away. He absentmindedly pats his head and almost screeches at the sight of blood staining the palm of his hand.

“M-Mr. Moon!” Kun squeaks when Taeil wakes into the faculty room with blood now dripping from his temples and a dopey smile on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Taeil only lets out a hollow laugh and waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing, nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about at all, I’m totally fine!”)

_I never did believe in miracles_

_But I have a feeling it’s time to try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [20210101]
> 
> phew, so that happened.
> 
> Happy birthday to the ultimate Capricorn Qian Kun and a happy new year to us all! I slept through most of today so I missed the SM Town live concert but I got to update this instead so consider this as my new year's gift from me to you!
> 
> It was actually pretty hard to replicate the feel of the original story through words because the original source material has the manga panels and animations but I'm trying my best to make things work and I like a challenge lol! I'm also experimenting with a new format for each chapter where it opens with a line from the manga and ends with a lyric from the song that's in the chapter title, which is why I made a few edits to the previous chapter for consistency.
> 
> This chapter has some stuff that need a bit more processing for some people so I don't know if I should a) write something that's in Taeil's pov that can explain his relationship with Sicheng like in the manga or b) leave it at that like in the movie. What do you guys think?
> 
> I always forget to plug my socials in the end so why not help me with a creative decision here on [twitter ](https://twitter.com/_urlocalerehe/status/1344970276870635520?s=19) or ask me stuff on [ cc](https://curiouscat.me/_yourlocalerehe)! Also listen to Yuta's radio show Yuta At Home, live every Friday at 11PM KST :))))))))))))


	3. intermission- bye my first // nct dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D and I are taking midterms right now so this wasn't beta-ed. if you see any mistakes, pretend you don't (jk)

“He said he’s known you since first year, Sicheng.”

“Who told you?”

“Taeil-hyung.”

It’s a rare occasion for him to find students loitering about the school past class hours, save for club activities or sports team practices, but Taeil stops at the sound of his name and two familiar voices conversing in an empty classroom. He does not have to peek through the door to know who they are, and only leans against it with his back hunched and his arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s because Taeil-hyung is the first person I met at this school,” Sicheng answers.

“Your first…? Wait, is that like a special word or something?!”

Taeil chuckles at Yuta’s bold leap to a conclusion while Sicheng calmly replies that there is, in fact, no special meaning. It is the truth and nothing more. Or actually, Taeil muses as he looks up to the ceiling, maybe there had been a special meaning; whatever made it was is long gone.

*

Taeil was standing to the side in the school auditorium as the principal made a winded speech for the entrance ceremony. He fought the urge to yawn and act disinterested, a bad example for the boys who were probably on their way to getting rotten. Their school was nothing to write home about; as long as you knew your name and how to write it, you could get in, no questions asked. Taeil had been bright, eager, well-aware but discreet with his preference for the same sex, but all that must have seeped out of him and he didn’t even notice.

Except for the last one. He couldn’t give that up even if he tried.

Eye candy, eye candy, eye candy, Taeil’s mind hummed as his gaze skimmed and scanned through the crowds. He is never one to mix pleasure and work, knew his boundaries and the consequences he would face if he crossed them. Fucking useless, he thought, when every single one of these boys are utterly grotesque or worse, too plain.

Taeil was eyeing a potential freshman with pierced ears and long blond hair (but he immediately regretted it when he made the ugliest impression of some cartoon character) when Kun called and approached him at his side. “Put me out of my misery, would you, Qian?” he drawled. “The principal’s getting boringer and boringer by the second.”

Kun frowned at his misuse of the comparative degree. “Well, I guess you’re in luck, Mr. Moon. The station called and we need someone to pick up a student of ours who fainted in the train. Could you do it? He’s a first year, might need some help.”

“If he’s so sick that someone needs to get him, shouldn’t he be taken home?” Taeil replied.

Kun, ever polite, let out a nervous laugh. “His parents are at work so there’s no one at home. It’s fine, he can stay at the infirmary once he’s at school. Please, Taeil-hyung!”

_So I’m a babysitter now?_ Taeil bit back the retort when Kun pleaded with innocent eyes behind his spectacles. Being made to do this stupid errand annoyed the living crap out of him, but he could never say no to Kun. He heaved a sigh and agreed, ears ringing when the auditorium was long behind him. Maybe it was not exactly what he had hoped for, but it’s a break nonetheless.

He swore when he realized he had left his car keys in the office, but after spotting a conveniently placed bicycle, Taeil made it to the train station in less than half an hour. He exchanged pleasantries with the employees, explaining that he was here to pick up a student.

“He’s just resting for the moment,” the clerk who met up with him said, ushering Taeil into a room. “Must be such a caring school to pick him up personally!”

“Yeah,” Taeil murmured as he thought about the endless mediocrity faced by their barely average school alumni. “Caring.”

When he stepped inside, Taeil’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he saw the glimpse of a bed and someone’s uniform that was suspiciously unkempt at the waist. He settled when the boy finally rose from his slumber and fixed his uniform accordingly. He is not much, Taeil thought. Everything about him is potentially model-worthy, sure, but the glasses, the clean-cut dark hair, and the stern look on his face made him older than his age. If anything, he is probably the last person to be enrolled in their dumpster fire of a school.

“Your teacher’s here!” the clerk said cheerfully.

Taeil managed to give a little smile, even a wave. The boy quietly expressed his gratitude, his slightly exhausted stare was response enough. Taeil slowly put his hand down and said a quick thank you to the clerk who had helped him.

“Normally I’d have a car but I forgot my keys so…” Taeil gestured at the bicycle he had used to get there, leaning against the cement wall. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The boy did not reply, only shaking his head. Taeil climbed on first while he got on the seat at the back. “Do you want to… hold on to me?”

Nothing wrong about that, right? It’s for safety purposes, Taeil can be a little uncoordinated sometimes.

The way he looped his arms around Taeil’s waist was hesitant, but he clung on soon enough. Taeil sneaked a glance over his shoulder and saw the his face pressed against his back, his gaze timid and averted. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, those words had an effect on Taeil. The bike ride to school was quiet, save for the expletives he had muttered whenever they met a reckless driver on the way. His chest still felt constricted when the boy’s embrace around him tightened as they made a turn or go up a slope.

“What’s your name?” Taeil asked. He'll be seeing him for the next four year, he might as well ask for it now.

“Sicheng,” the boy replied after a beat. “My name is Dong Sicheng.”

Weird, Taeil thought. Everything about this kid was weird, if he was being honest. He spoke like an adult and walked like a ghost, not with the vivacity he saw in most kids he knew, and to top it all off, his name is unlike anything he's heard before. “You’re not from around here, I take it.”

Sicheng’s head ruffled against Taeil’s back as he shook it. “My family is from China and I moved here when I was about to enter middle school.”

Taeil made an _ahh_. There’s no mistaking it now. He’s heard whispers of Dong Sicheng, a boy who got full marks on this year’s entrance exam. He must not have broken a sweat. Why is he here in their pathetic little school?

“Your name, sir,” Sicheng said to break the silence. “You never told me.”

Taeil let out an embarrassed chuckle when he realized he only kept on cycling. Why was he so out of it today? “Moon Taeil, but you can just call me Taeil-hyung.”

“That’s not very polite,” Sicheng said matter-of-factly.

It really is not, Taeil wanted to admit, but he stopped caring many years ago. Sicheng tugged harshly at his sleeve, urging him to stop the bike. Luckily they were about to pass by the park and make a stop for a water fountain. Taeil heaved a sigh and rubbed circles on Sicheng’s back as the poor boy folded over, hacking after almost choking in his own vomit.

“Rest here, okay?” Taeil said as he made Sicheng lie on a park bench, turning his backpack into a makeshift pillow and draped his blazer over his shivering body. “I’ll be right back.”

Taeil counted himself even luckier to find himself with some spare cash and a nearby convenience store. By the time he returned to the bench, a Pocari sweat and some tea in hand, Sicheng had closed his eyes, but he eventually stirred when he hear Taeil’s footsteps approaching him.

“Here, I got something that will help you feel better.” Taeil held out the bottle of Pocari Sweat, but Sicheng shook his head, murmuring something about preferring to rest for the time being and drinking it later. Taeil shrugged and took his seat next to the boy, slinging one arm over the back of the bench as he drank his tea.

“Sicheng,” Taeil said, “do you get sick in trains often?”

Silence. Taeil felt a little foolish asking, because he shouldn’t be bothering this kid with stupid questions after he literally heaved his guts out. To his surprise, Sicheng hummed before replying.

“It wasn’t always like this,” the boy said. “I was fine riding trains, but I got sick once on my way to an exam. After that, I’ve been getting sick in trains ever since, and I failed to take all the entrance exams for my chosen schools.

“My parents were disappointed, of course,” he continued. “I was, too, especially. I’m disappointed because I disappointed everyone. It’s… pretty pathetic, I guess, and because of that, I always expect the worst things to happen to me.”

_Was meeting me the worst, then?_ Taeil pushed way the thought. Poor kid. He deserved more than a shit education at the nearest school who would take him, and he _definitely_ deserved a more qualified and trustworthy confidant than Moon fucking Taeil.

“H-huh? Hyung, what are you doing?” Sicheng stammered as Taeil suddenly took him in his arms.

“Shhh, calm down,” Taeil said, shifting the boy closer to him and let him rest his head on his lap.

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” The anxiety was thick in Sicheng’s voice.

Embarrassed? Taeil didn’t know what that felt like anymore. “This is fine. Just relax and you’ll be okay.”

He can still feel Sicheng fidget under his thigh, but eventually the boy stilled.

“Taeil-hyung, what do you teach?” Sicheng whispered as Taeil reached for a cigarette and placed it between his lips.

“Music,” the older man replied, his words a little muffled.

“Music?”

“Yeah, music.” Then he snorted. “I probably don’t look the part, huh.”

“No, no, it suits you,” the boy said, and Taeil couldn’t help but picture Sicheng _smiling_. “The rhythm you’re making right now… it’s nice.”

Taeil knit his brow in confusion until he looked down and there they were, his hand patting on Sicheng’s shoulder in time to a beat he just made. Oh dear, he thought, eyes widening and heat flushing his cheeks. What was he feeling? If his heart had swelled just then, now it was about to burst. He sat there, very still, his tapping in synch to the rise and fall of his chest.

His rationality snapped him back to his senses. This is not supposed to happen, not even _allowed_ to happen. Sicheng is a student, Taeil is a teacher. He knew better than to act on impulse. He doesn’t even know if Sicheng wanted it as well, and he will wait four years for an answer if he had to.

“Sicheng, do you have a lighter?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Don’t… have… one,” Sicheng replied sleepily.

Sicheng fell asleep for the second time that afternoon. _It’s nice_ , his voice reverberated in his head as Taeil removed the cigarette from his mouth, careful not to move too suddenly lest he wake up Sicheng. For once in his life, everything is nice.

*

“Ya! You lovebirds have any club activities or other valid reasons to stay beyond school hours?”

Taeil had opened the door just as Yuta has his face inches away from Sicheng’s, and he couldn’t help but smirk as the former stares daggers at him. That’s payback for making his head bleed with his fist.

“I guess we have to leave, then,” Sicheng says, pushing the chair back as he stands up.

Yuta has a dark look on his face even when they pass Taeil by the doorway. “Don’t think I don’t have my eye on you, old man,” he spits, probably an attempt to heckle him. “I won’t let you have your way with him.”

Taeil laughs at his face, which makes Yuta even angrier. “Whatever makes you sleep at night, kid.”

Before Yuta could open his mouth, Sicheng rests his hand on his shoulder, amused at Yuta’s sudden display of possessiveness. Taeil would be lying if he said his heart didn’t ache when he sees Yuta’s expression soften at the sight of Sicheng.

“We’ll be going now, hyung,” the taller boy says to Taeil. “See you tomorrow.”

Sicheng is the one who starts walking first, then Yuta whips his head around to stick his tongue out at Taeil before skipping to catch up with Sicheng’s long strides. It could be worse, Taeil thinks as he leans against the wall. He could have flipped him off or cursed his name, but Yuta settles for childish like the idiot he is.

It’s quite strange seeing them walk side by side, Yuta striking up meaningless conversation while Sicheng nods and listens with a tolerant but sincere face. Taeil takes the box of cigarettes in his coat pocket then realizes it’s empty. Damn, he thinks, his gaze lingering on the two boys. He let his guard down this time.

_I guess I didn’t want my immature heart to get caught_

_I want to bury the secret_

_Only I know right here_

_(Love is difficult)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [20210114]  
> ahhhhh finally, taeil's pov is actually fun to write i should write more taeil (may or may not be a spoiler for a future project *winkwink*)
> 
> i'm so sorry that it took me almost two weeks to update this because like i said, it's our midterms rn and i was super busy the week before that :') i felt a bit like shit after my exam today so i chose to update this as a means of making myself feel better (self-indulgence is my coping mechanism yupyupyup).
> 
> my favorite part is coming up so please look forward to it! it has more of sicheng's pov and i enjoyed writing it a lot prepare for some feels.
> 
> [twt ](https://twitter.com/_urlocalerehe) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_yourlocalerehe)


	4. heartbreaker // nct 127

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you saw me upload this again no you didn't
> 
> tw cw // alcohol consumption, copious use of the words "idiot" and "jeez"

_“Number one. Always. Definitely. I can say it however many times.”_

_-Kusakabe Hikaru, Doukyuusei_

Yuta stares at the red and black slip of photo paper Taeyong had handed to him before diving into his locker. “Isn’t this a bit too much?”

“’Too much’?” Taeyong replies almost exasperatedly, pulling stacks of fliers into the crook of his arm. “Yuta, it’s our last show. Might as well end it with a bang, don’t you think?”

Yuta sighs as Taeyong hands him a half of the stack, drilling it into his head to distribute them all before class ends. It’s been two years since he and his friends manifested their musical aspirations as the band Heartbreaker. Even though they practice almost everyday after school, they don’t always have the opportunity to attend gigs because of… well, school. Despite that, they were able to establish a solid fanbase thanks to the wonders of the internet (and Johnny). But come Friday night, Heartbreaker will be no more as the clutches of reality is catching up to them, sooner rather than later.

He stuffs the fliers into his backpack, careful not to crumple them in the process. Somewhere after that and bidding Taeyong goodbye, Yuta sees Sicheng just a few lockers away. Is he…

“You don’t have to hide, you know.”

Sicheng almost jumps at his voice, a blush creeping in his pale cheeks as he becomes a jumbling, stuttering mess. Yuta fights the itch to smirk and coo at him.

“I-I was just… um…” Yuta waits for Sicheng to get a hold of his tongue before he takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “Good morning.”

Yuta flashes a wide smile at him. “Good morning.”

Sicheng only manages a nod before they soon part ways to their respective classrooms, but Yuta doesn’t miss the slightest hint of a smile that ghosts the corners of his mouth. It’s a shame, he thinks, that they had to be put in a different class this year, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say, and there are things right now that need to be of higher priority.

They are seniors now, after all.

*

“Disband?”

“Yep,” Yuta says, stretching out his arms and letting one of them rest on his head to dangle on the side. “Our vocalist Doyoung will be taking his entrance exams in this big university outside of town, and y’know, everything will be going downhill after that. I guess it’s finally the end of Heartbreaker.”

“Oh,” Sicheng presses his mouth into a thin line and focuses on the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s to say sorry for?” Yuta says. “It’s not like we were any good. All we did was covers and an original track here and there. I was even shocked to know we have fans, but then again, there’s Johnny to thank for that.”

“But your bandmates are important to you, are they not?”

Yuta hums under his breath, an answer all on its own. Sometimes Sicheng thinks he has Yuta all figured out, with the way he speaks in so simply and straightforward or how he cracks the occasional joke with his friends. His interests and desires are laid clearly before him but really, how much does Sicheng know? How does he see himself in five years? Ten? Does he like his food spicy or sweet? Which college will he be attending?

Speaking of…

Sicheng is about to bring it up when Yuta digs through his pockets after exclaiming, “Ah!” He shows Sicheng the ticket, the surface still shiny albeit a little crumpled at the edges.

“It’s a ticket,” he answers when Sicheng’s eyes ask him a silent question. “For our show.”

Yuta forces it onto Sicheng’s hand and Sicheng shivers at the clamminess of his skin. He continues to examine every inch of it, front to back, up and down.

“I can’t make it,” he says, about to return the ticket to Yuta. “I have cram school.”

“It’s an all-nighter,” Yuta calmly replies, pointing to a line of text with the words Heartbreaker. “We perform around… 1 AM, if I remember correctly. You’d be done by then.”

Sicheng is slow to process the look Yuta had given him: a slow, bubbling excitement, like he could not wait to see Sicheng in the crowd, like he had prepared the exact words to say upon inviting him, like he had curated their setlist so meticulously so that when they finally get onstage, he could speak to Sicheng in the language he knows best and by heart.

“I don’t know where you’ll be,” Sicheng thinks out loud.

“It’s at Pandora’s Box,” Yuta answers. They are at a shaded area with a vending machine. Yuta pushes him up the wall and kisses him. He doesn’t really expect it, and he didn’t really ask, but Sicheng welcomes it regardless.

When they part, Sicheng slowly brings his fingers to his lips out of habit, staring at the ticket. “Pandora’s Box?”

Yuta nods, his eyes gazing at Sicheng with intent. “You’ll be there, right?”

The child-like glint in his eyes is hard to miss, but Sicheng can’t make any promises, not yet. “I’ll think about it,” is all he says, but still, he keeps the ticket in his hand.

When they resume their walk home, Yuta chimes, “Sicheng, you were about to tell me something, right?” And when Sicheng refuses to give him an answer, he whines until they reach the place where they have to part.

That something will have to wait.

*

It’s already dark when Sicheng finishes his cram school that Friday, later than he had bargained for. His instructor had called them for a last minute review for their mock exams, and as much as Sicheng wants to be prepared, he also wishes to be informed ahead next time.

He already at the lobby when he hears a voice call out his name. Sicheng whips his head up and sees one of the instructors making her way to him with a manila envelope tucked under her arm.

“Good evening, Miss Baek,” he says politely. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“Nonsense, dear!” the woman says with a hearty laugh. “I just wanted to check up on you about your university choices. Did your parents take a look at them already?”

Sicheng nods. “Yes, they have.” Everything is pretty much set in stone, he thinks. His grandfather had studied there, and so did his father. It was only natural that he, too, would enroll in the same university.

“Thank you for the confirmation,” Miss Baek replies, beaming proudly at him. “Good luck on your exams, I know you’ll do well! Fighting!”

Sicheng doesn’t respond very well when people encourage him out of the blue, so he manages to mumble an awkward thank you before heading out and bidding Miss Baek farewell. He checks the time in his smartphone and sees that it’s already 11PM and he is still in his uniform. Normally, he would already be in his house by now, but the strange thing is, he didn’t feel like going home just yet.

Sicheng returns his phone in his trouser pocket when he fishes out a piece of red and black paper. It is a ticket, a little folded and wrinkled, much to Sicheng’s dismay. He looks around and takes notes of the nearby streets, then he starts walking.

*

The streets near Pandora’s Box are oddly quiet, which takes Sicheng a few moments for his eardrums to adjust the loud music that blasted from within the club. In his school uniform and dark hair, he sticks out like a beacon among the sea of black rock outfits, rainbow-dyed mohawks, and modifications on body parts he didn’t even know could be modified.

“Over here if you wanna see the show!”

Sicheng cranes his neck and follows the bright voice, only to find himself face to face with a man just as tall as he is, tattoos snaking his pale arms and wearing a dark shirt with the logo of some obscure heavy metal band. His smile is youthful and that puts Sicheng at ease, at least for a little while.

“Good evening and welcome to Pandora’s Box!” the man shouts over the loud music, his chipper tone striking against his appearance. “My name is Jungwoo!”

Sicheng swallows his nervousness down until he feels it land on the pit of his stomach. “Um, I’m here to see Heartbreaker?”

“Okay!” Sicheng tries not to stare at the tattoos that decorate his skin as Jungwoo punches his ticket and presses an ink stamp on Sicheng’s wrist.

“You have a coupon for one drink, on the house!” Jungwoo says, handing Sicheng a small stub of paper. “Enjoy the show!”

Sicheng tries to return the energy that shone from Jungwoo’s grin but another eager soul had pushed him off the queue. His feet are more confused than ever before, the pads of his fingers smudging the ink of his coupon. He somehow finds his way to the bar where a man with dreadlocks greets him over the counter.

“What can I get you?”

Someone beside Sicheng asks for a beer, and the bartender must have mistaken it as Sicheng’s order because he takes his coupon and replaces it with a paper cup of draft beer. He decides to shuffle away to the fringes of the crowd and get in when Yuta and the rest of the band will be onstage. The beer sloshes dangerously in his hand as he passes by all sorts of rowdy people.

“Come on, Sana! You know this will be their last show!”

Sicheng is not one to eavesdrop but his ears automatically perk up at the conversation between a group of girls sitting at a booth. One of them – probably Sana-- looks distressed, covering her embarrassed face with her hands.

“I dunno, you guys. What if he’ll reject me?”

“Sana, I’m not asking you to confess, at least talk to him! Make memories!”

Another voice butts in, curious. “Hey, did you hear about the next band that’s playing? Heartbreaker?”

“Yeah, I heard they’re disbanding. Something about their vocalist leaving?”

“Oh! Did a fight happen?”

A cool snicker. “Probably.”

Sicheng is about to drop his interest when the voice continues to speak. “And besides, it’s not the vocalist everyone’s after. It’s the guitarist who’s, like, super hot.”

“Ah, what’s his name again?”

“Nakamoto Yuta!”

As if on cue, the lights flash on stage and the band wasted no time, opening with an energetic number that got everyone on their feet. Sicheng sees Yuta leaping across the stage, his hair almost white under the lights and his hands making clean riffs on his guitar, and his heart races. Every band member is good, no doubt, but Yuta is playing like it’s his last day on Earth. He is so immersed in their performance that Sicheng wonders if he even noticed him in the crowd, and he doesn’t mind, doesn’t even care. Yuta is having fun, Yuta is happy. And even though he says it’s no big deal, Sicheng knows that Yuta will miss what it’s like to perform, even for just a little bit.

By the time their setlist is over, Yuta is drenched in sweat, but the grin on his face is brighter than any light on the stage. Around Sicheng everyone cheers and some even ask for an encore. Doyoung takes the mic and thanks the audience for the enthusiastic response to their last show before they go backstage. Sicheng doesn’t know if it’s allowed, but no one stops him when he follows them there, anyway. He is about to cross the threshold when he hears a familiar voice.

“I’m sorry, my friend is just shy. But she really wants to talk to you, Yuta-ssi.”

Sicheng is only inches away from the doorway, with only his peripheral vision to see the scene unfolding before him. Yuta looks flushed, from the heat of the stage lights or from the girl standing in front of him, Sicheng doesn’t know. His eyes are still in a daze, only making a non-committal noise to acknowledge her.

“Um, Yuta oppa.” Sana’s voice quivers with nervousness. “I, uh, I’ve been following Heartbreaker for a long time, and I really admire the way you perform onstage, and I wanted to ask… do you have a girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. The word sounds ugly in Sicheng’s ears, and it sounds even uglier when Yuta parrots, “Girlfriend?”

At this point, Sana becomes completely flustered and does not let Yuta answer. “Ah! Never mind, it doesn’t really matter, maybe… maybe we could exchange accounts on KakaoTalk?”

Sicheng sinks to the ground, squeezing his head between his knees and the grip he has on his neglected beer is precarious. No. Sana is assuring Yuta that she won’t send him any weird messages. No. All eyes are probably on Yuta in the room. No, no, no, no. It’s an earworm in Sicheng’s mind, taunting him, stabbing at his heart.

“Oh.” Despite sounding ragged, there is no hesitation in Yuta’s voice, and he whips out his phone from his pocket. “Okay.”

Sicheng looks up and looks over his shoulder. Sana is crying, and Mina is whispering words of encouragement to her. The girls say their goodbyes and leave the room quickly.

Someone from the band whistles. “You lady-killer, you!” Probably Johnny.

“No fair! How come he’s all they ever talk about?!” Definitely Jaehyun.

“And you choose this opportunity to air out your grievances now,” Taeyong deadpans.

Doyoung laughs heartily and there’s a sound of someone patting another person on the back. “Well, Yuta? Feeling adventurous?”

A mumble comes from Yuta’s lips. “Yeah, gonna go out for a bit.”

Doyoung asks why, and Sicheng doesn’t stick around to hear Yuta’s response. By the time he had left Pandora’s Box, he had gulped down all of his beer and he’s walking through the streets at a sluggish pace. His cheeks and neck are flushed and his phone keeps ringing, god, why won’t it stop ringing?

“Hey, Si-“ At the sound of Yuta’s voice, Sicheng rejects the call. “Sicheng?” Reject. ‘Where are-“ Sicheng grumbles in irritation and makes sure to press “block number” before continuing his way to nowhere in particular.

He ends up away from the bustling streets and to an old park. Everything hurts, Sicheng realizes, when he drops his backpack and slumps pathetically into the sandbox. Everything fucking hurts and he knows, Sicheng knows he can end this, can stop the pain while the wound is barely there. He hazes listlessly at the night sky and lets his vision blur every star in existence. He can still pretend if he acts quickly enough. Nakamoto Yuta is just a figment of his imagination, yes, he is sure. His kisses, his “I love yous”, the way he holds Sicheng’s hand as if he is afraid to let him go… yes, yes, yes, all a simulation, all a dream, all an illusion.

Sicheng’s train wreck of thoughts is interrupted by a call from a public telephone, which he answers without a second thought. “H’llo,” he slurs.

“Where the hell are you?” The voice is familiar, he doesn’t really know why.

“In a sandbox… at some park.”

He hangs up immediately and his phone falls to his belly. Minutes later, the sound of dashing feet is fast approaching him, and before Sicheng can get up, Yuta runs to him at full speed and tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Sand flies into the air and Sicheng can’t help but be dumbfounded and mildly annoyed. He smacks Yuta’s head once, twice, three times.

“Leggo,” he mumbles.

Yuta nuzzles his face even closer to SIcheng’s chest and hugs him a little tighter. “No.”

“Let-“ Sicheng is about to push him away, but as soon as space opens up between them, Yuta closes it with a kiss. His arm cradles the back of Sicheng’s head and when he asks for entrance, Sicheng lets him in as if it’s second nature, parting his lips so Yuta can taste the lingering traces of alcohol in his mouth. He almost falls back onto the sand as Yuta leans in even more, and the latter pulls away to look at Sicheng dead serious in the eye.

“Was I cool tonight?” is all he asks.

Oh. “I dunno,” Sicheng replies, averting his gaze. “You tell me, Mr Popular.”

“Who? Me?”

Sicheng wants to hit him on the head again if Yuta is going to act dumb, but the glint in his eyes is genuine, curious, at awe of the fact that he is being paid attention to, and honestly? He finds it a little cute. Yuta prods at him with his stare before sniffing near Sicheng’s face. “Did you drink?”

“I dunno.”

“So was I cool?”

Sicheng refuses to look at him, embarrassed to be seen at this state, but Yuta does not yield. “I don’t know,” he says, a little clearer, firmer.

They stay quiet, like this, in each other’s arms in the sand. Sicheng musters the courage to look at Yuta when he isn’t aware of it, and opens his mouth to speak.

“Yuta, do you enjoy being around me?”

The other boy raises his head and that alone is response enough for Sicheng to continue. “Do you like being around someone who’s… glum… a total grind… a nerd…” His breath hitches at what he’s about to say next but he goes for it anyway. “A guy. Like why would you choose me of all-“

“Sicheng.” Yuta’s face grows dark somehow, the tone he uses is deeper, and it sends a chill down Sicheng’s spine. “I’m gonna get mad.”

Sicheng blinks, and before he knows it, Yuta is screaming and shaking him. “Ahhh nononono! I’m not mad, I’m not mad, I’m not mad… just… jeez.”

Yuta goes back to hugging him all of a sudden, murmuring a word over and over again to Sicheng’s chest. “Jeez, dammit, jeez, dammit, JEEZ! Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?! I thought you ranked number 1 in our entrance exams Sicheng, you’re smarter than this! Ugh, you’re such an idiot! Do you have any fucking idea how worried I was? Jeez, you idiot! Why do you have to let your negativity get the best of you, huh? Why do you always have to assume the worst? Fuck, I thought I was gonna die right then and there… rejecting my calls, blocking my number, please stop pushing me away! Shit, you’re such an idiot, an idiot, an idiot!”

Okay, now Sicheng is getting annoyed, all while Yuta is shaking him vigorously like bamboo withstanding an awful storm. He isn’t really used to being called an idiot repeatedly and frankly, he doesn’t like it.

“Stop calling me an idiot, idiot,” he retorts quietly.

“Number one.”

Yuta pulls away and there is a somber look on his face when he says, “Sicheng, you’re my number one.”

Everything comes to a pause, and it’s like Sicheng’s cheeks couldn’t go any redder, his heart beating any faster. He reciprocates Yuta’s embrace and buries his face into his shoulder. “Fuck… you… are you for fucking real?” he breathes, and he’s trembling so hard that he wants to cry. Yuta strokes his back and whispers sweet nothings into his ear.

“I’m real,” he whispers, “and I’m here.”

Sicheng is on the brink of tears now but they will have to wait, because he suddenly feels a foreign sensation against his skin. “Somehow I’m feeling your hands moving on my back.”

“Yeah, I am. Think of this as… a punishment?”

Sicheng jolts up in surprise but Yuta stills him, his fingers pressing long, measured strokes as he hikes up Sicheng’s shirt. He links his arms around Yuta’s neck, and when he feels him trace his spine, Sicheng shivers.

“Amazing, your spine… it juts out so nicely.”

Sicheng sucks on his lower lip as he hears Yuta counting under his breath, and he realizes that Yuta is counting his every vertebrae. Down, down, down he goes, and Sicheng can feel himself unravelling, his muscles relaxing and he breathes out a soft “Oh”.

“Scapula,” Yuta suddenly says softly as his hands go back up again, circling Sicheng’s broad shoulder blades. “They’re what’s left of our wings, did you know that?”

“No,” Sicheng replies, shaking his head. “Where’d you get that?”

“From a novel, I think. I can’t remember what it is anymore.”

Sicheng takes a shaky breath as he rests his forehead on the crook of Yuta’s neck. “Yuta, this… this…“

“This tickles?”

He nods, embarrassed, and hopes Yuta doesn’t see the color of his cheeks and neck right now.

“Huh.” Yuta’s strokes become more deliberate, calculated. “Are you sure this just tickles and nothing else?”

Sicheng jerks back and his mouth becomes slack. “W-what? No, t-that’s not it! Just then, I-“

“I recorded it.”

Sicheng cries out, not knowing what to say. “You what?!”

“I recorded it. In my heart. And I can play it back whenever I want.”

And Yuta says it with such sincerity that Sicheng has half the mind to strike his face. “Are you an idiot?!”

“Ahhh, this is such a good night,” Yuta mutters absentmindedly.

“Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

“Truly a memorable disbandment,” he says, and he cups Sicheng’s cheeks in his hands. “You’re my number one, Sicheng.” He presses a soft kiss to his forehead. ”Always.” Another kiss on his eyelids. “Definitely.” A kiss on the tip of his nose. “I can say it however many times I want.” A kiss on his lips, and he flashes Sicheng a smile. It’s small, yes, but just as genuine and warm that it has butterflies flitting about inside his stomach.

Yuta gets up and brushes the sand off his lap before stretching out his hand for Sicheng to grab purchase. They walk home, side by side, and Sicheng can’t help but be so minutely aware of how Yuta curls his fingers around his own. And he hold onto them a little tighter, just to know that this is real.

_Though it’s hard, I’m alright_

_I wanna slowly adjust myself to you_

_Step by step, tell me about yourself_

_A to Z, if it’s you, I like anything_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ughhhh i had to upload this three times because the formatting was all wrong huhuhuhu im so sorry about that AND for not updating this in three friggin months oh damn but im finally glad to get this chapter out! this one's my favorite part of the manga and i had a lot of fun writing this! lmk what you guys think^^
> 
> [twt ](https://twitter.com/_urlocalerehe) || [ cc ](https://curiouscat.me/_urlocalerehe)


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